Our journey south...

Well, our upcoming "Christmas vacation" starts Saturday morning bright and early. We'll start heading back towards the place that gave me the accent I am slowly losing. I'm not sure if I can claim that we will be in one spot long enough to rest, but I am really excited to see my family and friends in Little Rock. And although we will be putting in 30+ hours of driving before, during, and after our one year anniversary, hopefully I can remember to not be a brat in the car and enjoy the time together. The first year wasn't nearly as hard as people warned it would be.

The top, oh, five adjustments included
1. Learning to live, full time, with a boy.
2. Learning to clean up after myself so that Dave didn't evict me.
3. Learning to think of my money and his money as "our money". Especially when I wasn't making much. Or any.
4. Moving. 3 times. in 8 months.
5. Learning not to take such a wonderful thing for granted. I'm a very lucky little girl. (He bakes! Any man that will bake you anything is worth mentioning. Really.)

Other, non-marriage related adjustments have all had to do with the weird places we've lived since getting hitched. Like how to survive with no one your age in realistic driving distance. Or how not to freeze to death. How to get over not having decent mexican food for miles and miles and miles. Stuff like that.

WHAT?!

For some reason, the people that I work for insist on having me type up their dictated notes. It seems to me to be an incredible waste of both of our time, but today I really have nothing else to do so I don't mind.

Or at least I wouldn't, if people didn't insist on talking to me while I try to do it. I have to wear headphones and type what I can understand them saying, and meanwhile...EVERYONE tries to communicate with me while I do so. I can never hear them, and usually they are just talking to fill silence, which is unusually frustrating when I stop the tape, take off my earphones, and ask them to repeat whatever they said.

"Oh, I just said that I wish people wouldn't send these emails about game tickets to everyone" or "Oh, I was just saying that I liked the hat that the girl outside is wearing". Blarg. Rewind. Find my place. Someone else comes in to comment on the peanuts on my desk. "What!?!"

"Oh, I said these peanuts are spicy."

Why did I stop working to hear you say that. Especially when I just want to finish listening to the person droning on the tape in slow motion about research I don't really understand. In fuzzy mumbled words that I'm not sure if I heard quite right.

I'm thankful to have a job with people who are willing to be friendly and talk to me. I just wish they wouldn't do it when I have on headphones.

Its official...

I'm old. Okay, I'm not really that old (unless you consult someone in elementary school), but I just am not as interested in my social life as I was in College Station.

Last week I did a little experiment. I decided, "hey, who needs to stay at home and be productive? Not me!"

So on Monday I went out with David and some of our friends and played trivia. I think I got to bed at Midnight, so I got about 6 hours of sleep.

On Tuesday I had a friend over for dinner and it took so long to make that we didn't even watch the movie she rented. Bed at 11, 7 hours sleep.

Thursday we went out with friends, and got home fairly early, so I went to bed on time but did NO housework.

Friday we went to see the new James Bond movie with friends. Bed late. Don't remember.

Saturday I went Christmas shopping for the whole day, and then went out with some of the girls and poor David ended up taking everyone home after the bar closed. Bed at 3?

Sunday I managed to drag myself out of bed and go to a church service my boss invited me to. Then I went to another service at 7. I didn't do a single load of laundry until Saturday.

Dave and I are kindof clothes divas. We change all the time and frequently things end up in the laundry that haven't even been worn yet ( or in the case of jeans, have only been worn once. I used to get a couple of wears out of jeans before I married David. Now his clothes swallow them up with mine until I get around to washing them.

The result of this weeklong go-go-go? Tired Nicki, messy house, and empty gas tank. I did make a couple of new friends though. I think it balances out in the end, but I need to learn to turn down some social engagements. I think that being away from my friends since may has made me into a person who can't say no to a night at a movie I never wanted to see (The bond flick was overrated in my opinion. I think testosterone has to be pumping through the veins to fully appreciate it. And lets face it, Bond men have never really done anything for me).

So tonight, I am going to bake cookies and work on the Christmas stocking that I started and have until recently given up on. And maybe go to bed at 9:30. Laugh if you want, but I consistently need my 8 hours of sleep. 9 if Dave will let me.

So I thought that I would catch up our holidays thus far. For the first Thanksgiving, I think, ever, David and I did not go back to Arkansas. I tried really hard to make a dinner that was as close to what we are used to as possible, and with David's help managed to pull off a decent spread for the two of us. And Jack, because we decided to share some of the turkey leftovers with him as a special holiday treat. This is what my new kitchen table looked like right before we gave thanks (and I bawled for a second) and then dug in.
Pretty, huh? Then a few days later, Christmas morning came. Okay, it isn't Christmas yet, but I got the exact same feeling in my chest that I did when I was five years old on Christmas morning because of this:
While Jack has a bit of the evil eye going on, you can plainly see that my backyard is covered in snow. And that my horticultural experiment from the summer has officially died. Sorry bell pepper plant. You were tasty. We went downtown and played a little trivia at one of the bars with some of our friends, and this is what the city looked like all lit up and dusted with snow. I made David take a picture with me in it, but he was frustrated that we were running late and made a terrible face. But I'm going to post it anyway.

Maybe the hat is a fashion don't, but it really doesn't matter when it's this cold out. I think the wind chill that night was 6 degrees or something awful. Yuck. Anyway, I thought I'd show you what winter looks like in the early winter. I'm told that by February I will just look like an sloppy eskimo and I will tan just to get some UV rays to inspire happy feelings, regardless of the fact that it is horrible for you and causes cancer. I hope it doesn't come to that.

Okay, I've decided that there is one gift I need for Christmas. One thing that I will not go without for another year.

A S'mores maker. My obsession began two years ago when I visited Julia Oldenstadt in Washington D.C. and she took me to Cosi. We split a smores for two, cought up on old times, and inspired in me an obsession that cannot be quenched.

I crave them all the time now.

So, I've decided to crave them no more. Come December 26th, One of these will be under a tree somewhere with my name on the tag. David has been informed. I must have smores. (Available at Target). If you want to contribute some accessories, you can buy me a box of graham crackers, a bag of stay puff marshmallows, or if you really want to be fancy, a bar of Hershey's candy.

This Christmas will be merry.

Already a sad attempt...

Okay, So when I first got this idea I was so sure that I'd be a natural at blogging. Alas, I put it off like I do all things, and I fall behind. So while my original attempt was to include hilarious stories and pictures recording those stories, eh, well I'll do what I can but no promises. Pictures can't really be uploaded at work.

To think, the things that could be accomplished if I filled the entire work day with productive tasks. But since I need major instruction on how to do said tasks, and my teachers are m.i.a., blogs are my new hobby. Especially people who I don't really know, or perhaps knew at one time but have lost touch with. They are fascinating. I would read the blogs of people I do know, but they are either not on the bandwagon, or update far too infrequently (ahem..Michelle). I would probably freak a few folks out if they knew how dedicated I am to reading their online diaries, but I learn SO MUCH from a few of these women. You see, very few of my friends are married, and of those who are, they are excruciatingly busy carrying out life. Babies, parents, jobs, hobbies...and thus I learn little from their experience.

But these women with the blogs...they are the stay-at-home type. They have babies, too, and I learn a little every day about their struggles to keep them fed, entertained, and well disciplined. I am forming my own theories about raising a family from reading theirs. They are wise, and funny, and make me look forward to the day when I have kids to share with the world. I mean, between David and I we should be able to make some fairly fascinating people. He is a super brilliant, guitar-playing, quirky cutie and I am a scatterbrained chatterbox of a woman who tries to reinvent my personality about 6 times a year.

Will I be a vegetarian? A musician? Martha Stewart? Give me a year and I'll try to cycle through them all.

Now shrink and combine those attributes into toddlers. So exciting. And who knows where we'll be by then. Arkansas? Texas? Michigan? Siberia? Only time will tell.

Anyway, I'll try to keep on top of things. Let you know my hairbrained ideas and the lessons I learn from strangers who live in Texas.

An example of the former: About 30 minutes ago I was thinking about what my life would be like if I started going by another name. You see, I was thinking yesterday that someday "Nicki" might sound as unappealing as "Micky" or "Tonya" or "Tamra". Perhaps I could formalize or shorten my name somehow so that I sound more mature. Herein lies the problem: Nicki is already short for Nicole. I can't start going by Nicole for two reasons. One, that's my sister's name, and Two, I don't like it any better than Nicki. I can't go by my middle name, because it's a weird name (Dennette) that sounds either really really redneck, or like I'm trying really hard to be enter the adult entertainment business. Bleh. So What if I used another derivative of Nicole...Like "Cole"? I'm not seriously considering changing my name, but I accidentally thought about something stupid for too long and it lead me to try out "Cole Ingram". I am rediculous.

Getting Started

I thought I would try this out as a way for those of you who are so far away to still keep up with David and me while we are in Michigan. I'm actually terrible at remembering to take pictures, but I vow to try harder. Some seriously funny (another way to say odd) stuff has gone down since moving here. Anyway, bear with me and leave comments so that I can know how you are doing as well.